


you blame yourself for wanting more

by raikkonen (armario)



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Crossdressing, Daddy Issues, Dubious Consent, Infidelity, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-27 03:34:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21385402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armario/pseuds/raikkonen
Summary: He needs this particular strain of affection that was once guaranteed, then abruptly taken away.
Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Sebastian Vettel
Comments: 24
Kudos: 97





	you blame yourself for wanting more

**Author's Note:**

  * For [singlemalter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/singlemalter/gifts).

> for Malter - ❤️ you said "anyone" so I ran with it! Can't believe you all inadvertently convinced me to write crossdressing.

Charles waits.

He waits for what feels like a lifetime. 

He is hyper-aware of the lipstick dried stickily over his mouth, and the weight of the false eyelashes. 

He spent a long time wondering how to present himself. This couldn't fail. He couldn't fail. It had to be bold enough for Seb to take notice, but subtle enough not to seem comical. 

The lingerie frames his perfect body; an art he's mastered. It's the perfect cut of cloth to fit his broader, more masculine features, yet sheer and sexy to compliment his prettiness. 

He went and found one of Seb's shirts tossed carelessly onto the floor. It smells like him. He put it on and made sure the simple black bra could be seen through the white, slightly transparent fabric. In case Seb was tempted to go there. 

His teammate enters cautiously as though he already knows someone is waiting for him. 

The sharp intake of breath tells him Seb is right there, standing in the doorway, taking in the scene. 

Charles turns around. He looks demurely at the floor, clasping his hands together in front to cover his groin. 

"Waiting for someone?" Seb asks dryly.

Charles commends him for his composure. He's looked in a mirror, he knows what kind of picture he makes. 

"I was," Charles smiles. "Not any more."

Seb looks at him unashamedly, but there's no hint of desire in his expression. Charles would chance to describe it as resignation. 

"I know there's someone else you can go to for this," Seb says measuredly. He doesn't seem surprised. He's upset, though, to see the suspected depths of Charles' depravity laid so bare as this.

"There's no one like you," Charles shakes his head. His cheeks are flushed red with embarrassment, completely unused to getting rejected.

"I'm married, Charles."

"So?" 

"So we can't do this." Seb exhales. He sits down and rubs a tired hand over his face. 

Charles shakes his head petulantly. He kneels without hesitating, his expression imploring. 

"No one has to know."

He looks away, tongue darting out in tantalizing fashion to wet his dry lips.

"I know you're only in your thirties but," Charles laughs awkwardly, "you're like a..."

His mouths the words in French at first, unable to bring himself to say it out loud._ Father figure_. 

Seb's face softens. Charles revels in sympathy and it spurs him on to shuffle forward and put himself between Seb's legs, resting a hand on either of his knees. 

"This is not what you do with a father figure, Charles," Seb whispers, pained. "Come on."

Charles ducks his head. "I knew you'd say no. That's why I want it so much."

"Charles..."

"Does your wife do this?" Charles whispers. He boldly rests his hand against Seb's dick and his cheek against Seb's thigh, looking up at him with pleading eyes. 

Seb licks his lips involuntarily, but he doesn't answer. He tries not to let his gaze wander to Charles' cock, the head of it peeking red and weeping out from his black lace panties. 

"Does she?" Charles repeats, voice as quiet as his ghosting fingertips.

Seb looks away. "No," he admits.

"Really?" Charles asks, disapproving. His fingers are shaking as they undo Seb's zip. He's never nervous when he does this. 

"I really don't think I should let you," Seb says, trying to take control of the situation, reign them back into reality. 

"Do you care about me?" Charles wonders aloud . His hand closes over Seb's soft dick, covered by his boxers. 

"Wait," Seb warns, choked, jerking away from his touch. 

"Answer me," he insists. He isn't put off by Seb's flightiness. He'll get him; he always does. 

Seb swallows. His eyes take in the perfect eyeliner, the lips outlined in subtle red, the smooth, freshly shaved face with its pretty, girlish features. 

"Yeah, I do," Seb sighs, defeated. "Strangely," he adds self-deprecatingly. His hand finds its way into Charles' soft, just-washed hair, and while it's only meant to push him away, it goes straight to Charles' dick.

"Then do this for me. Be my..."

They stare at each other. If he gives voice to the word, the spell will break.

"Not like this," Seb refuses. 

"Please," Charles counters. He knows he has him in the way Seb's lips move over a silent prayer for forgiveness.

This time, when he splays his fingers against Seb's cock, he doesn't move away, and it starts to harden beneath his prolonged touch and the tension between them.

"You make me feel stupid," Charles mumbles. 

Seb frowns in confusion at the sudden change in direction, his full lips parting to object. Leisurely, Charles pulls down his underwear to expose his cock. His mouth waters. He traces it with a finger, unable to hide his smile as it jumps responsively under his attention. 

"Even when I beat you," Charles continues regretfully. "Even when I'm faster, you're more than me. I'm just... a shell."

"Don't be ridiculous."  
Sebastian's voice is unsteady, but it's with a mix of derision and arousal.

He has an anger towards Charles sometimes. A frustration. When he gets a taste of it, it sends a thrill down his spine. 

He leans closer and presses a kiss to Seb's cock.

"You have kids, don't you," Charles asks quietly. Except it isn't phrased as a question. It's a subtle plea laced with honey, and the feeling of his lips against Seb's balls. 

"Don't bring my kids up right now," Seb says and the anger in his voice makes Charles shiver. 

"You know how to be a father," Charles carries on, ignoring him. "You _know." _

_What I need._

He lets the revelation linger in the air and puts his mouth back on Seb's dick, letting it slide to hit the back of his throat. He sucks lazily, diverting to run his tongue along the length or mouth at his balls. 

This is what he's good at. Racing first. Then this. Making people feel good.

He wants to make Seb feel good so Seb will take care of him. Maybe Seb would like him a lot better if he slowed down on track to let his teammate past, but for Charles, that isn't an option. He hopes Seb will settle for this; total control. Power. 

And in return...

_Please,_ he begs. It's the theatrics that he goes through to get what he wants. He dressed up prettily and he knew Seb appreciated it, even if he pretended to be concerned or disgusted. 

His teammate is clever. Miles more so than him. He'd know what Charles needs; it's just a question of his willingness to provide it.

It's the way Seb worries about him. It makes him realise that rough sex with selfish strangers is not enough. He needs this particular strain of affection that was once guaranteed, then abruptly taken away. He needs-

"You're a good boy," Seb tells him obligingly, shamefully whispered like leaves on the breeze. "Aren't you?"

Charles' hand quickly finds its way to closing around his own dick, squeezing himself at the base. He's been hard for so long thinking about this moment, planning it, waiting for Seb to get here.

He takes Seb's length further down his throat, pressing his tongue flat against the underside as a means of encouragement.

Seb's grip tightens in Charles' hair. He's holding his breath and trying not to thrust forward into the wet heat of Charles' painted mouth.

"A good girl, too," he adds softly.

_That's_ what Charles needed. A few hurried tugs on his aching dick and he is spilling into the fabric of his lingerie, his keening moan muffled around a mouthful of Seb's cock.

He pulls away and rests for a second, his breathing heavy. Then he risks a glance upwards.  
  
The broken, pitying look that Seb offers makes satisfaction curl warmly inside him. 

This is who he is. 


End file.
